I returned my gaze to the stones. It was tempting—so tempting—to throw caution to the wind and step through them. But as much as I wanted to find Azriel and finally kill our sorceress, it would be a stupid course of action. I couldn’t risk everything on the chance that I’d somehow be able to defeat Lauren as I was right now. Besides, it wasn’t just my life I was risking these days, but that of my child.
Lauren had been one step ahead of us all the way; there was no reason to believe she still wasn’t. And Mike had seen the charm on my wrist, and no doubt he/she had already found a way to counter it.
I needed advice. I needed a plan. And the only people who could offer that in this sort of situation were once again the Brindle witches. But they would also need to know what they were up against. We weren’t dealing with just a sorceress capable of blood magic; we were dealing with one who’d been taught the art of Aedh magic. And whether the Brindle witches could even counter it, I had no idea.
Another blow hit the door, and this time the small split became a fissure. I thrust Valdis through my shirt to keep her secure and free my hands, then pushed up my sleeves and squatted beside the nearest stone. I took a deep breath that failed to calm the butterflies doing speed laps around my stomach, then wrapped my arms around the stone and heaved upward. The damn thing was lighter than it looked and came away so easily from the concrete that I just about flung it over my shoulders.
I hugged it close, my bare arms against the slick stone, its inner pulse beating against my skin. Moving it away from its twin obviously hadn’t done anything to disrupt whatever magic fueled these things.
As the door’s hinges began to groan and give way under the force of yet more blows, I called to the Aedh—and hoped like hell the stone would change right along with the rest of me.
It did.
Though it felt damn weird. It was almost as if I had an additional heart, but its pulse was oddly dark and foul in feel. I turned and watched as the door finally gave way and two men entered, one carrying what looked like some sort of ax, without the sharper end. As they glanced around, confusion on their faces, I slipped past them and made my way back through the warehouse and out into the night.
It took me longer than it normally would have to get across to the Brindle. The magic contained within my particles was not only heavy, but also very draining. The lack of strength might have been due to my inability to keep food down of late—which meant I was running more on reserves and determination than anything else—but I rather suspected it was more to do with the stone itself. Our sorceress had created these things, at least in part, through her own blood and life force. Maybe the magic sustained itself that way, too. And because I had wrapped it within my particles, it had naturally started draining me.
The Brindle finally came into sight. I shifted downward, calling to the Aedh and flowing into human form on the grassy area at the front of the building. I stumbled and hit the ground knees first, my body shaking and my head light. The stone was still clasped tight to my chest, so I released the thing and instantly felt a little better. A little cleaner.
I drew a shuddery breath, then looked up at the Brindle, waiting for someone to come out. I didn’t want to cart the stone inside—and seriously doubted I’d be able to, anyway, given the Brindle’s restrictions on evil entering its space—but I had no doubt the witches would be aware of my sudden appearance. They would have at least felt the ripple of the stone’s foulness across the magic that protected this place.
I had to wait only a second or so before three figures appeared—Ilianna, Zaira, and Kiandra. But as Ilianna took the stairs two at a time and ran toward me, there was something in her face—a light in her eyes—that told me she really had become a part of this place. At that moment, I had no doubt that she and Carwyn would come to an agreement and that she and I would never share a house again. We would remain close for the rest of our lives, but things could and would never go back to what they were before all this madness began.
I blinked back tears—again, selfish ones, because life itself was all about change, not remaining static—and smiled as she all but slid to a halt in front of me.
“I’m okay,” I said swiftly, “despite my somewhat inelegant landing.”
“Maybe, but what the fuck is that?” She knelt on the other side of the cuneiform stone and tentatively reached out a hand. She didn’t touch it, however, but hovered her fingers an inch above the stone.
“It’s another of those cuneiform stones.”
She frowned. “It’s rather small, isn’t it? Aren’t all the others at least six feet tall?”
“Yes, but don’t let its size fool you,” I said. “It’s as powerful as its taller brethren.”
“Do they all feel this damn nasty?”
“Yeah, but then, a very nasty sorceress made them.”
“I think ‘nasty’ is underdescribing the bitch.” She pulled her hand away and sat back on her heels. “Why bring it here?”
“Because I wanted to know if the warding bracelet you made me is strong enough to withstand the assault of someone capable of this sort of magic.” I half shrugged. “I figured if I brought one of them here, you’d have a greater idea of what I face.”
“We are well aware of what you face.” Kiandra stopped beside Ilianna. “But we can give no guarantee as to whether the wards will withstand the type of magic that burns within that stone. It is a very foul mix of both the magic from this world and the other.”
I glanced at the stone lying in front of me. “But if it wasn’t actually created with blood magic, shouldn’t the wards hold up against it? It’s only blood magic that’s the problem, isn’t it?”
“Again, I cannot say.” She studied me for a moment, then said, “What has happened?”
I took a deep, somewhat shuddery breath, and said, voice surprisingly calm, “We walked into a trap. Azriel was taken.”
Ilianna sucked in a breath. “Is he . . . ?”
I smiled, but it felt grim. False. “He’s okay.” Or, at the very least, he was alive. “I’d know if it were otherwise.”
“The sorceress using his life as a bargaining chip for the key is not quite what I had envisioned,” Kiandra murmured. “I had thought it would be Hunter.”
“Our sorceress is nothing if not adaptable.” Once again I shoved fear and the need to be doing something—anything—rather than kneeling here calmly discussing logistics and magic back into its box. I couldn’t allow fear free, because it could all too swiftly become debilitating. And if I rushed, I could kill everything—everyone—I was trying to save. “And given that everyone else who means anything to me is otherwise protected, I guess he’s the logical target.”